


The Red Thread of Fate

by tiger_moran



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:10:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2114583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_moran/pseuds/tiger_moran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by an aspect of the detective's latest disguise, Watson attempts to explain the theory of the 'red thread of fate' to Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Red Thread of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> A slightly modified extract from something I was trying to write years ago, but it stands alone so I thought I may as well post it.

    Arriving at our Baker Street rooms to find a slim woman of middling age and rather… _interesting_ attire in our sitting room was no new thing. Nor, sadly, after courteously introducing myself to her and informing her that Mr Holmes (for it was he I presumed she had come to see) would be back presently, was this woman letting out a peal of masculine laughter and dragging off her bonnet and wig to reveal herself as none other than Holmes a novel thing either. One day I swear I shall see through his disguises and not make such a fool of myself.

    “Your face, Watson, it is a veritable picture.” He chuckled as he peeled off the artificial nose.

    “Very funny, Holmes,” I said scathingly and resisted the temptation to put out my foot and trip him up as he strode past me in his ladies’ boots. “Is there some particular reason you are dressed as a tart?”

    “A case, my boy, entirely for a case, I assure you.”

    He moved into his bedroom to change. I followed him in there, despite the questioning glance he gave me, and sat upon his bed.

    “Am I such a fascinating subject, Doctor?” he enquired, as I watched him unbutton the bodice of the crimson-coloured dress.

    “I will never fail to be fascinated by you.”

    “You are easily entertained then.” He shrugged off the dress, tossing it onto the bed beside me, and discarded the petticoat a moment later.

    “Holmes, you know that the Chinese have an ancient belief that an invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time or place or circumstance,” I said, absently running my fingers over the smooth fabric of the dress.

    “How fascinating,” he said, disinterestedly. He stood there in just the corset and stockings now as he wiped away the rouge and kohl.

    “They think that the thread may become stretched or tangled sometimes, but it will never break.”

    “This impromptu lesson on ancient oriental beliefs is riveting, Watson, truly.”

    “I was reminded of this during our first case together, and of all the strange and unpredictable circumstances that had to occur to bring us together. If I hadn’t been wounded, for instance; if Murray hadn’t slung me on that pack-horse; even if I had been wounded but hadn’t then contracted the fever; then if I hadn’t happened to meet Stamford that day and if he hadn’t happened to have met you earlier and learned that you were looking for a man to share the rooms with… likely I would never have met you.”

    He seemed to give this consideration for a moment, pausing to glance back from wiping away his lipstick. “Watson,” he said at last, and I was sure he was going to say something, well, _almost_ kind in response. He could not quite bring himself to do so though. “If you’re going to tell me that this is the real reason why you gave _A Study in Scarlet_ that title, I may have to kill you.”

    “I’m afraid you were the one who suggested the name and brought up the scarlet thread there, dear heart,” I said. He sat upon the bed beside me and I put my hand to his cheek for a moment, before moving my hand to tangle my fingers in his dark hair.

    “Was I?” he asked, leaning into my touch slightly. “Yes, I believe I was. However I certainly wasn’t thinking about any nonsensical imperceptible red thread binding you to me. I referred to murder, Watson.”

    “Holmes, whether you like it or not, I think that we have always been bound together since long before we met.”

    “By this invisible red thread?” he said with immense cynicism.

    “Yes, this invisible red thread.” I planted a light kiss on his lips. “The scarlet thread of love – don’t cringe like that – running through an otherwise monochrome existence and…” I broke off as he began to shake with laughter. “Stop laughing!” Although at least his laughter made him open his mouth, so I took the opportunity to shove my tongue into it. That shut him up.


End file.
